The Honorable Mr Fair
by Caelleh
Summary: Dumbledore makes a big mistake on Halloween, changing Harry's life. Years later he tries to fix it, but now everything's changed. Warnings: Language, WBWL, Dumbledore, Good Potters, Adoption, Crossover elements, Gen.


**Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, or any elements taken from the Final Fantasy series.**

Not a dark story, but not so light hearted; written in a serious manner…of sorts. After all, the Final Fantasy series has recurring themes of orphans and soldiers that have seen some harsh things, and yet retain their good natures.

Warnings: Language, Immaturity and Maturity, Teenagers being Teenagers, Wrong BWL, _Dumbledore_, and perhaps substandard writing. I'm pretty sure I edited most of the bad words out, though.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had always tried to look after his students, even when they were mature adults. After all, to a man who had lived over a century, it was hard not to see everyone as a child. However, even as he cared for them all, he held a special place in his heart for his valiant Gryffindors, especially the Potters, whose love and courage were admired by all.

So, when Voldemort was vanquished by the young Potter twins, namely little Eddy, he forced himself to make a terrible decision on their behalf. Would he let them raise the afflicted twin, Harry? Should he let them love the boy with all their hearts, only for him to betray them with the evil he held within, so strong he could feel it at a distance?

No. He wouldn't be so cruel as to drag out their misery. He'd take care of the boy, and spare them the pain of having to do it in the future.

But when he held the boy in his arms, he knew that not even he was cruel enough to end a child's life.

So he'd take away the boy, and prevent him from knowing anything of magic, of gaining any power over his dear friends the Potters. For if the boy grew up with the power of Magic, Dumbledore was sure a tragedy would occur. The miasma of evil was too strong to deny: Harry Potter was dangerous.

Thus he'd told the Potters that young Harry had been utterly destroyed by Voldemort, and that Eddy had somehow been the one to save them all (probably through the power of love and sacrifice, he told the Potters, even if he himself did not fully understand).

And he'd comforted them in their grief, knowing that young Harry was safe and alive, and would live his life away from the magical world and away from his family, banished to an orphanage, unable to hurt anyone.

But he'd seen the truth years later, hidden within the pages of a mutilated diary that exuded dark emotions that felt oh-so familiar.

Young Harry was not evil.

He was a horcrux, and all of Albus's plans were turned upside down. After all, this changed _everything. _It meant that perhaps Harry was the child of prophecy, not Eddy. It meant Dumbledore needed the boy back in his sight, where he could judge the situation best, and plan accordingly.

And so he'd begun his quest to search for the young man, a quest that had taken the better part of a couple of years, and he had succeeded.

Now, all he had left to do was convince the boy to go with him.

* * *

It turned out that young 'Henry Porter' had been adopted a week within being sent to the orphanage by a kind widow who had never managed to conceive before her husband had died. She had taken care of the boy for a decade, before dying in her sleep from an unforeseen heart defect. He was then shuttled to a boy's home, where he'd apparently fallen into bad company, if his appearance was anything to judge by.

His naturally unkempt hair was worse than James's had ever been, sticking up in the most unruly of manners, as if he'd just woken up (even though it was at least four in the evening). His long fringe framed his face and fell around his forehead, revealing a little gash near his hairline in the shape of a lightning bolt.

He wore what seemed to be a school uniform, but the button-down white shirt had the collar stiffly pulled up around his neck and was unbuttoned enough to show another shirt underneath. His pants were tucked into boots, and the blazer was wrapped around his waist.

For a first impression, it was enough to make Albus Dumbledore think the worst.

Then the boy opened his mouth.

"The Missus said you wanted to see me, sir?"

His face was impassive, his tone extremely respectful, which completely contradicted his appearance. He had the manner of a boy used to dealing with authority, and knew exactly how to not antagonize someone who had power over him.

"Yes, I did," Dumbledore said in reply. "Please, have a seat," he continued, motioning to the chairs arranged around the coffee table to one side.

The boy sat in an informal manner, Dumbledore noted. His hands came up to rest loosely on the chair's arms, revealing leather bracers as the sleeves of his arms pulled back.

"What do you know of your parents, Henry?" Dumbledore asked, watching the boy's eyes for a hint of anything beyond cold disinterest.

"You mean biologically, correct?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "I doubt you'd be here if it had to do with my mum." His eyes glanced to the side for a second, and he fell silent. After a moment, he continued. "I know nothing at all."

"Well," Dumbledore said, drawing his wand (and the boy's eyes, who glanced at the long stick with muted interest). "I believe I have some surprises for you."

After a few tricks, which drew a curious light into the boy's eyes (at last), Albus decided to question him. "Have you ever done anything magical, Harry?"

The boy's eyes flashed at the foreign name, but he didn't bring it up. Instead, he answered the question. "I always made my mum feel better," he spoke, glancing to the side again. "She had health problems, and anytime I saw her feel weak, it seemed I made her healthy again just by praying."

Albus followed his gaze, landing on a pink ribbon tied to his arm that seemed to shine with its own inner light.

"Aside from that, maybe as a baby. Mum certainly didn't tell me about anything strange," Harry finished with a shrug.

"I see," Albus said thoughtfully, lamenting the fact that he'd ever abandoned such a kind child to fate. "May I ask how your life here is?"

"It's okay," Harry replied, looking back to Dumbledore in a carefully measured manner. "I do chores, go to school, and play with friends. I have a few part time jobs here and there. It's... a life."

"Well, Harry Potter," Dumbledore announced, "I think your life is about to be turned upside down."

* * *

"So, somehow, Voldemort's magic had banished me, and I ended up here with the name Henry Porter?" the young man summarized, his relaxed position belying the intense light in his eyes. He had tensed here and there throughout Dumbledore's story, but all in all, revealed very little.

"That's correct," Dumbledore said with a nod. "But I have found you, and if you wish, you can return to your family."

The boy glanced at the wand on the table between them, before glancing up at Dumbledore. "Seems legit," he drawled. "I'll believe you. When can I meet them?"

Dumbledore was surprised at that. "You wish to meet them now?" _What is going through your mind, Harry? __You don't feel as if it's a betrayal of the woman who raised you? Do you feel anything at all, I wonder? Do you even care?_

"I'd like to meet them," Harry said. "How else could I make any decisions about them?"

* * *

"It's a very special wand," old man Ollivander spoke, his eyes trying to bore into Harry's. "Its brother was wielded by the very man who left you in your position. In fact… he may have given you that scar..."

Harry refrained from scoffing at the man, refrained from showing any emotion in front of old man Dumbledore, whose very being screamed an unnatural interest in him, in his reactions, his thoughts, his emotions.

It was almost enough to make him activate the gems on his left bracer and just blast the old bastard, just to get him off his back. Or perhaps pull out the blade hidden under his jacket. The guy give him the jitters.

As for Ollivander, what frickin' scar was he talking about? He had lots; living in a boy's home in a crowded city didn't exactly lend itself to a safe lifestyle.

But he noticed the man stare straight at his forehead, where only one scar lay, he knew.

"Let's go, Harry," Dumbledore cut in (_Henry, you old bastard,_ he thought with annoyance), "And pick up a pet. Perhaps an owl?"

_Screw birds. They crap all over the place, and I am not going to waste my time picking up after one. _"I'd rather not, sir."

"Owls are wonderful creatures," Dumbledore told him, "They are very loyal, and can carry mail to your friends."

"I don't think I can handle a pet, sir."

"Well, that's alright, Harry." The barmy old man patted his shoulder and walked on, oblivious to his companion's annoyance.

* * *

"Harry!"

"Harry!"

"Harry!"

"Big brother!"

Henry stoically (on the inside, anyway) allowed their hugs, and he gave them all reassuring smiles, as if saying, 'Yes, I'm finally home,' even though he felt like vanishing.

His mum was never this touchy-feely, never this emotional. She loved him, and she hugged and kissed him, but never did she clutch at him so desperately, pressing tear stained faces near him, grabbing him all over as to assure his continued existence.

He was starting to get paranoid when Dumbledore cleared his throat and brought everyone back to their senses with a few words, allowing him to finally get a look at them.

James was tall, taller than him, and had wavy black hair, a wide smile, and shining eyes hidden behind round glasses. He had been the one grabbing him with the grace of a bear.

Lily was his size with auburn hair and his features, he recognized, the same nose and cheeks and smile (when he had something to smile about, anyway) and his piercing green eyes (though his didn't show so much of who he was: they were just his eyes, not looking glasses on his face, not windows to his soul). She had grabbed him with the force of a clam, almost refusing to let go.

Eddy was taller than him, he realized (fraternal twin, apparently) with his father's features and coloring but his mother's straight hair. He had just given him a hug and pats on the back, giving him a happy grin.

As for the girl, Rosie was all smiles and dimples and messy red hair and she _looked _like a little sister, more than any little sister he'd ever seen before.

And when Dumbledore told his story (which was complete bull, a voice inside told him) they completely believed him.

They never saw into it, Henry noted. They never asked 'Why didn't you try looking before?' or 'Why would he be banished to a frickin orphanage with a name so similar to the original?' or 'How did you find him, if you said he was gone forever just ten years ago?'

As for his story, he saw the relief on James's face when he spoke of a happy childhood. He saw the jealousy flashing in Lily's eyes when he spoke of his mum (_his mum,_ that beautiful angel who raised him and taught him honor and the importance of doing your best and a million other things). He saw the muted horror in Eddy's eyes when the boy realized that could have been his life (even though he didn't know half of his story, didn't realize that his story was _far too simple _to be true, didn't know the crap that came with not having a father and later not having anyone and having to fend for himself in the anarchy of a boy's home and then rising above them all). Rosie however, seemed to be the most observant of them all, and her frown at the end was the only proper reaction he'd seen in a long time.

* * *

"So, do you play Quidditch?" asked the tall ginger monstrosity, with ridiculous long hair hanging to his shoulders, who had come to play with Eddy.

"What's that?" Henry asked.

The ginger seemed to recoil. "Only the greatest sport ever!" the ginger shouted.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'll show you how to play," Eddy assured him, patting his shoulder.

"He has to study," Remus Lupin announced, coming in with a pile of books. "We have to get him ready for Hogwarts if he wants to enter at the same year as you two, remember?"

Remus was one of the few sane adults. On their first tutoring session alone, he'd confessed he had his doubts, and that was enough to cement his opinion on the man.

That and the fact that he was a werewolf, which was fricking awesome.

"That's right!" announced Sirius Black as he barged in. "We are going to make you into the greatest wizard to ever walk into Hogwarts."

Sirius was alright too. It turned out that Dumbledore had him thrown into Azkaban for a week while the Potters picked up the pieces of their life, before they'd testified on his behalf and gotten him out. For that, he harbored a special dislike for the old man, even as he acted as if nothing had happened.

A man after his own heart.

He also loved life, and loved to laugh, reminding him of his mum's dead husband, though Sirius wasn't nearly as awesome as the forever young soldier he'd seen in pictures and videos, and whose things Henry wore constantly.

When he was young, he'd thought that the soldier with spiky black hair was his real father, and his kind green-eyed mum his real mother.

Even with the truth known to him, he still thought of himself as their child.

"Can I watch?"

Rosie was awesome. Ron and Eddy constantly ignored her just because she was two years below them in school. But she was tough and cute, and really liked hanging out with her new big brother, who never ignored her.

"Of course," Henry assured her. "Learning more is always a good thing."

* * *

One night he woke up to the sensation of someone touching his hair.

His green eyes glanced up through his long fringe and met an identical pair that shone in the moonlight.

"Lily," Henry whispered, even though he knew it wasn't the mum that raised him. Still, Lily did love him, and he felt as though it would be cruel to take that away from her. It wasn't her fault that Dumbledore was as suspicious as an orphan with frosting all over his cheeks running from a bakery.

"Harry," she said, not seeming worried in the least that she'd been caught. "I just wanted to see you."

In the face of his silence, she elaborated. "When you and Eddy were babies, I'd just hold you, and run a hand over…"

"It's okay," Harry assured her. _It really is, so don't start crying or somethin'. _"I'm okay with it."

"It's just…" Lily started, before falling silent, the emotions she wanted to express unable to leave her throat.

"I understand," Harry spoke, reading everything in her eyes as he always did. To him, she was an open book. Maybe it came from seeing the same eyes every time he looked in a mirror? It was sort of strange, having such a bond. No matter how much he'd loved Mum, he never had such a strong connection with her.

"…Tell me about the woman who raised you," Lily spoke some time later.

Henry hesitated, before speaking. "I actually don't know much about her. She was adopted, she told me, which is why she had decided to adopt as well. She had been married to someone, but he had died out in some war. All I know is…she was kind, and always tried to smile. She was good at gardening, and religious. She was pretty great."

"…What do you think she'd say if she saw you now?"

"She'd hate my haircut," Henry said. "She always liked my eyes, and my hair always ends up hiding them. She'd want me to dress properly, to stop slouching. She'd tell me to be like her husband: to embrace my dreams, and honor."

Henry paused for a second before continuing. "She'd want me to give you a chance."

"…Will you give us a chance, Harry?"

Henry…no, Harry now, smiled.

"I already have."

Lily seemed to glow at that. "I know everything might be a bit strange for you, Harry," she told him, running a hand along his face. "But James and I will always love you. We want the best for you, never forget that."

* * *

The next day he went to breakfast with his hair neatly combed back…even if the damned strands tended to lift up and spike. His collar was down, his shirt buttoned, and his blazer nowhere to be seen, revealing a few pouches at his rather thick belt. The shirt that day was short sleeved, revealing the bracer he wore on his left hand. It was studded with round gems and had been adapted to hold his wand, so no one would question its purpose.

"What's with that old thing anyway?" James asked, glancing over the newspaper. "If you wanted a holster, we could buy you a dragon skin one. Plain and simple, if you'd like." He had been trying to get Harry to accept gifts and feel more comfortable with the family. It was sort of working, though it was clear that James was often the one feeling uncomfortable. He just didn't know Harry as well as he did Eddy and Rosie, but he was trying.

It was one of his Mum's husband's bracers, and specially made to hold the gems. No way would he ever replace it. "It's awesome," Harry asserted. "I don't need a new one. Besides, it's a Wizard Bracelet."

James frowned slightly at that, but he said nothing.

"Well," Lily said, smiling as he saw his new appearance. "I think it's nice."

Eddy coughed something that sounded like 'girly,' looking straight at the pink ribbon that always adorned Harry's arm.

"Anyway," James said, almost casually, "I have tickets to the Quidditch world cup, if anyone wants to go."

* * *

Quidditch, he realized, was impossible to describe, beyond the rules anyway, and was pretty awesome to watch.

Playing it? Not his cup of tea, of course, but to each their own. He liked flying, the few times he tried it, but he wasn't very competitive beyond what was necessary, unlike Ron and Eddy, who took everything to ridiculous heights.

It was the after party where the fun ended, sadly enough, what with the screams and terrorists popping up like the IRA.

He was quickly separated from his family, what with the charging and screaming crowds, but he didn't let that discourage him. As soon as he caught sight of an attacker among the chaos, he activated the gems on his left arm and began his rush, pulling his short sword from a pouch.

The terrorist caught sight of him and aimed his wand, screaming, "_Avada Kedavra!"_

The curse, for he assumed that was what it was, slid off of him like water, and the Super Ribbon tied around his arm grew warm.

On the blade itself, one yellow gem flashed, and Harry found himself _cleaving _the man's arm off.

With one enemy down, Harry spun in place and locked on another one, the gemstones sparkling furiously as he blocked a fiery spell, letting the Wizard Bracelet absorb the flames, invigorating him.

A green gem flashed on his arm, and he threw the energy locked within it at his enemy, a weak bolt of lightning striking the wizard, knocking him out.

_It's been far too long, _Harry thought to himself, thinking of his fights at the boy's home, where sparking fists had gotten him far in the warring factions, before _dashing _through the crowds at inhuman speed.

* * *

He had managed to find his family again, and get off scot free for his actions, seeing as no one came forward to denounce him. However, he resolved to wear both his Wizard Bracelet and Aegis Armlet more often, fully equipped with green and yellow gems. His pouches were more stocked than ever, and his small blade polished and sharpened.

No one said a word when they saw him with two bracers acting as holsters, one holding a wand and the other a knife.

After all, you could never be too careful. There were terrorists afoot.

* * *

After a boring trip on the Hogwarts Express (on which Rosie dragged him around, Eddy and Ron introduced him to everyone, and he met unpleasant people, everything happening too quickly for him to process anything) he finally caught sight of the castle above the lake.

It was pretty awesome, though the pouring rain ruined the effect a bit.

He watched the little kids walk around him, amazed by everything, before the doors opened, admitting a severe looking woman who _stared _at him for a second before ushering along the first years, telling him to wait for his turn to be sorted.

It was a boring half hour before she came back for him and ushered him into a large hall with four tables filled with brats, and a long table at the front from which old man Dumbledore presided.

Harry felt his face fall into its accustomed impassiveness with a certain reluctance. He had been getting used to his family's openness; having to be on his guard was annoying now. A minor flick allowed his fringe to fall near his eyes and around his face, occluding his gaze from old man Dumbledore's searching gaze.

He walked towards the focus of the room: a ratty old hat perched upon a stool.

The severe woman took the hat and placed it on his head as he took a seat.

"GRYFFINDOR!" it shouted, surprising him with its loudness, and everyone clapped for him.

_Why?_ He asked himself, frowning out at the tables. He'd done horrible things, after all, to stop the other boys from hurting him, and he'd severely injured those attackers at the Quidditch cup. Why would he be placed in the house of chivalry and honor?

_Because, Potter, _a voice said to him in the back of his head as the hat was pulled off, _Sometime honor is a complex thing. Good luck._

_**End**  
_

* * *

A/N: **Edited 8/28/12 (fleshed out story, corrected holes, made things flow better)**

I wrote this because I was wondering about Wrong Boy Who Lived stories, and exactly _why _the twins would be seperated. I mean _really, _why the hell does that happen? Usually James and Lily are retarded parents in these plots, but I find that hard to believe. So, I tried my hand at it.

The only way I could find that works is by making Dumbledore the evil one. But even that doesn't work that well; after all, _why _would he be evil? So even that turned into him doing the wrong thing for what he could have thought was a right reason. I'm not a Dumbledore basher, after all. I actually think very highly of him: in canon, he's a kind old man with the best intentions.

The fact that JKR gave Harry a messed up childhood was a plot reason: heroes need to be tragic, so they can rise above their beginnings. However, that kind of ruined Albus's image in the fifth book, doesn't it? The fact that he knew everything but did nothing? I don't blame the character, I blame the writer. She started with a normal kids series and ended with a trio of books that featured sacrifice, the significance of death, and the misguided past of an old man who always wanted to do what was right. Good stuff, but still.

As for the adoptive parents and later mechanics, that was me being a bit of a fanboy. However, I made his childhood as open-ended as I could, making what he did as Henry a mystery that the reader could fill in, ya know?

I'll be continuing this sometime, rest assured. I've got big plans for after Fourth Year. But for now, I have to plan out how exactly Harry fits into everything.

Feedback appreciated. I'd like to know what you thought of my Friday morning scribblings.


End file.
